The Austin weekly statesman. (Austin, Tex.) 1883-1898, 1887-11-10
"Will they acquit him"

Inc terrible suspense was ever. Every face
beamed with qualification.
THANK God! knew it would he So"
Look how pale he is. "
"lIe is crying"
The prisoner had seated himself, trembling
in every joint of his body. A sudden weak
ness came over him. His face was buried in
his hands and he was sohbing convulsively.
The sympathy for him must have been great,
for there was hardly an eye in that great
room that did not gisten with moisture
Many drew their handkerchiefs and burst
into joyful tears In the midst of this emo.
tor the judge of the court declared the ac-
.cused to be free. Then young, fair and
delicate girl arose from the witness bench and
stepped slowly and hestatingly toward the
young man, her hands cropping in the air,
showing her to be blind, and her face beam
ing with happiness. But he saw her coming
and sprang up, fastening to meet her, with
outstretched arms. With a glad cry she sank
into his arms.
On the fourth floor of large suburban
building they lived. A family of swallows
had sought the protection of the gable end of
the roof above them, or they would have been
the highest dodgers in the house. The birds.
however, were good meighborS. Early of
mornings they showed their friendliuess by
tapping with their bills upon the window
paneS. And they did not have long to wait
Tor tic window to be opened and.to have their
breakfast spread out for them on the sill bv
the poor blind girl Each time she stood
While they were fluttering over the food-and
raised her face to heaven, whose light her
eyes seemed to feel. though they could not re-
ceive it or reflect it again
she was lovely creature. With wonderful
ulstlnctness were the outlines of her features
drawn, and from the golde1 locks, that fell
III sllken waves over her shoulders, shone
peculiar brilliancy as if to make amends for
the exhausted springs of her eyes. When she
walked along the street with her head bowed
down on the arm of her brother, no one would
suspect her to be blind, for she walked firmly
and confidently at his side. He was her staff.
her eyes, he very air she breathed. She lived
Tor HIM alone, and only valued life to make
nm happy. She was 10 years old when a
spell of scarlet fever robbed her of her sight.
The father, an humble laborer, died long ago,
and the mother quickly followed. Father and
mother both dead and the world roaring sea
Of darkness.
She prayed earnestly then to God to take
her also, but strong, manly arm was thrown
around her neck, and an earnest, loving voice
said: Don't trouble, Marie; am with YOU
and will never forsake you" And he had kept
his word. No mother could have guarded her
child more lovingly, tenderly and carefully
than did this noble brother his charge. To
amuse her, to bring smiles to her sad face
was the joy of his life. Years ago he thought
OF marrying; but when lie thought OF Marie.
in her sad affiiction, he gave up the thought
entirely, for in his love for his sister his soul
had found an aim and happiness His chief
pleasure was to sit in his easy chair of even
mgS, after his days work was done, and listen
to her prattling voice or the music of her
piano, which was the only luxury in the mod
est apartments. She had learned to Dlay be-
fore the Cinerian night overlook her: and
like spring flowers kept blooming in the
blossomless winter time was her music to her,
a symbol of a past happiness sweet re-
mlnder of the daylight of her life. Her feel
lngS, which were too sad, too heart breaking
to contide to any one-which she even tried TO
keep from herself-were trusted often to the
sad wailing Strains of her instrument; in them
she lamented and wept He understood too.
well the wordless language; and often when
Marie sighed and sobbed in respondent song
lie would approach her, take the little soft
white hands from the keys and say:
"Marie, why do you make my heart so
heavy!'
Then she would pour out her feelings to
him. Not on her account was she sad, she
would say, but because she was daily and
hourly robbing him of his freedom and hap
piness, and could do nothing for him in re-
turn for all his goodness.
"Foolish child lie said once, "when will
you learn that owe everything to you, and
you are indebted to me for nothing! Am
not the most contented man that ever lived?
Is not my home already more comfortable
and pleasant than any woman-no matter
how beautiful or rich she might be-could
make its Does my bL-iness lose anything
by my not diSSipatng, as most young men dol
Or do you think could enjoy myself more
in the heated concert halls among the ele-
gantly dressed people than here in this COM
Portable chair! Or that the grand music
which | don't understand would please me
better than your playing? No more of this
sadness, little sister: you hearl'
81 promise, Rudolph" she said, II will not
DC SO agan-no, never" SO she spoke, and
her face looked bright aud hopeful.
He t:jri 10 make her keep hcI word, out
the gloomy thoughts would ever recur; and
the old W nan Frau Stern, who lived Oh the
next floor below, and did the greater part of
the simple domestic work for her, was obliged
to hear many lamentations.
"Ah! | am u poor useless creature" she
sighed constantly. De has to work hard and
bear all the burthen for me, and spend his
earnings day after day, and can do nothing
to help him."
"Marechen," Frau Stern would say, con-
solinsly, don't talk that way. What could
your brother do without you! You are more
to him than wife could be- 1t would not
suit him TO marry; he is far too good for the
frivolous young ladies nowadays"
Often had she spoken such words of solace-
ment to the poor orphan: but she only shook
her little head sadly, and would not be conf
forted.
One day an old servant came to her in great
agitation.
"Mariechen," she said, "f you really would
like to earn something, 1 know how you can
do So"
The blind girl smiled incredulously.
II earn anything! impossible!'
ayes, by playing the piano"
The features of the blind girl were suddenly
animated.